


The stormy light

by Lioublia



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lioublia/pseuds/Lioublia
Summary: In the fading light of this afternoon, Legolas stands alone in the courtyard, his silver hair floating around his pale face, in the wind loaded of spring scent. He looks down at the city, unbelievably quiet and peaceful after the battle and the coronation. Soon he will have to go back, to leave.





	The stormy light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi every one, here is my first work ever posted on AOOO. I am French and this is also my first story in English so I hope you will still enjoy it. I just adore this couple and really wanted to write about them. I hope I did them justice. Enjoy :)

In the fading light of this afternoon, Legolas stands alone in the courtyard, his silver hair floating around his pale face, in the wind loaded of spring scent. He looks down at the city, unbelievably quiet and peaceful after the battle and the coronation. Soon he will have to go back, to leave. To take a horse and ride hard to the gates of Mirkwood. He briefly thinks of his father, his low and authoritative voice, his views on his own fate and future, the tempered joy that maybe, maybe, will come to the surface of his cold blue eyes when seeing his son returning to him. Legolas sees and feels the forest of Mirkwood around him, the perfume of the trees blossoming, the green light piercing the leaves and the branches so high in the sky. It feels like home is overwhelming him.

Home. A place where he is supposed to belong, to cherish and be cherished… Home. A place where so much is being asked from him. A place where his father has buried himself under the trees, far from the world and from the heat of the sun. A place he fled once. Seventy years ago, after the battle of the five armies. Only to return. But home feels odd and far right now, at this very moment. It feels like it belongs to someone else. Someone with a sense of duty, someone who will meekly be the prince the kingdom is waiting for. It has been his path for so long that Legolas does not even know… Just… how to picture a different life. A different version of himself. He’s been this quiet, well educated, thoughtful prince. He’s embodied the power of his country, of his nation. Defending it and representing it to the eyes of hundreds. He remembers the countless hours of lessons, the history of Mirkwood, the history of the world. The right way to speak, to stand, to fight. He also remembers a time when he used to escape at the very end of the forest, climbing the trees until the top, his little head close to the sky, in the cool air. These were hours of happiness, between the lessons and later the meetings. Stolen. Stolen from his own fate. These past months, despite the fear of death and of time, it has felt like these stolen hours in the woods. What was at first a diplomatic mission turned out to be the most extraordinary adventure of his entire, long life. He had not felt this alive ever. At least not since he went to meet Aragorn. Aragorn. Legolas is so proud of his friend, of his courage, of his way to fight with his heart. On the battlefield and now in the great rooms of Minas Tirith, adjusting so fast to a new destiny. Or rather to his true destiny. Fate has been so hard on him. He remembers the first time they met. Aragorn was nothing but a child to him at the time. Seventeen years old. Such a blink of time in an elf’s life. He remembers his quietness, his calm temper and more than anything, the sparkle in his stormy eyes under the heavy dark curls. Underneath the softness, there was an energy, a thirst that even very young elves had not. 

Legolas had been searching for him, riding from the battlefield of Dale to the very north. He was so lost, so confused… his life was upside down. He had left his father, left Tauriel. On the back of his horse, he used to feel like he suddenly knew nothing. Nothing of life, nothing of this world. Like he had to be everywhere and belong to nowhere. Like he had to be free. And for the very first time, speeding on the green lands of countries he had never came across, it felt like a spark of freedom was entering his life. He remembers thinking about the sadness in his father’s eyes the moment he decided to leave him. These days across the strange and unkown hills separating him from his goal were still very special to him, even after seventy years. The first time away from his duty. Even though it was his father advice, at that moment, it felt like his choice. His choice. Just like it was his choice to go to Rivendell for the great meeting. He personally insisted on going. He fought for it. And he has enjoyed every bit of this adventure. The camaraderie, the nights under the bright stars, in the coolness of the wild. He had made real friends, hardly won. All of this used to be so much out of his comfort zone but it had felt real, true, unexpected. It had felt like life itself. 

\- Legolas…

The elf bluntly turns to see Aragorn, looking at him with a small smile.

\- Did I startle you? You, Legolas Greenleaf? 

Legolas says nothing for a few seconds. He just watches the man in front of him. His well combed brown curly hair has nothing to do with how unleashed it used to be during their journey. Now everything is even more kingly about Aragorn he thinks to himself. Aragorn always wore on him this kingly destiny. Not that he used to talk about his royal ancestors, never did he. Except on that special night, sixty years ago. But, well… it was never to be spoken of again Legolas thinks. 

\- Legolas ? 

\- Well, it seems so my friend, he answers, a small smile on his face in return. 

Aragorn walks near him, their shoulders now very close. The king looks down at the city, he breathes heavily and turns his face to seek Legolas ‘one. The stormy eyes are still there notices Legolas. This face has subtly aged. The light wrinkles around the eyes. The beard. Such amazing things to see for the elf he is. Aging suits him. 

\- This is so quiet, Aragorn whispers. 

\- Yes. It is like hearing peace. 

Aragorn smiles at him. And then looks at him deeply, his grey eyes set alight by the low sun, full of honey and amber. 

\- What is it ? slowly asks Legolas.

\- I do not know, you seem… Different today. 

 

\- Do I…

\- What’s on your mind my friend ? 

Legolas says nothing for a moment. He suddenly wishes it was gone. This legacy. This sense of duty. He wishes he could just stay here, upon the city walls, remembering the past and more than anything, enjoying the present time. 

\- I will soon have to leave.

A subtle shadow comes across the eyes facing him. It is nothing really. Just a feeling, an impression. Maybe it’s only in his mind. He does not know anymore. What he does know in the hollow of this surreal moment, is that if Aragorn were to ask him to stay… Oh, well… maybe, maybe

\- Perhaps you could stay a little longer…


End file.
